Gun in his Hand
by Gunmetal.And.Smoke
Summary: Season 9 finale AU. Spoilers. What if, during the final smack down between Dean and Metatron, Sam had gotten there earlier?


AN: I do not own Supernatural. Sadly. This is purely just for entertainment. A big THANK YOU to Mrs. Haynes for helping me out!

* * *

The world moved in slow motion. A barely conscious Dean Winchester looked through blurry eyes at Metatron holding an angel blade. He couldn't hear a thing that the arrogant angel was saying. Dean knew he was going to die. He heard someone scream, but what did they say? Suddenly Metatron wasn't in Dean's line of sight anymore. He looked around frantically; his eyes landing on a sight that made his blood run cold. Sammy! HIS Sammy was fighting with Metatron, and losing. Badly. Dean let out a groan as he tried to stand. He had to get to Sammy. His legs gave out several times before he could stand. He stumbled towards the fight that seemed to be getting further and further away. His mind screamed at him to get to Sammy.

Sam's grunts of pains echo loudly in the large warehouse. He had yet to land a hit on Metatron, but Metatron had landed plenty on him. 'Protect Dean.' He kept repeating to himself. Each hit he took made his body protest in pain. Sam saw movement in the corner of his eye and when he turned his head he saw Dean stumbling towards Metatron. Neither brother was listening to the crap spewing from Metatron's mouth. A sharp, searing hot pain laced through Sam's chest. He looked down, eyes wide. Sticking out from his chest, a few inches below his heart, he saw the bloody glint of the angel blade handle. Sam fell to his knees, gasping for air.

Metatron let out a smirk and said; "Tsk tsk. I guess you're not as high and mighty as you though, Sam. Is Dean really worth protecting?"

Dean let out an inhuman growl as he watched Metatron thrust the blade into his brother, the Mark on his arm burning mercilessly, the feeling intensified as Metatron spoke. The first blade flew into his hand as if Dean was a puppet master and the blade was on a string. He swung at the angel with all the force left in his body. But before the blade could meet its target, Metatron was gone in a flutter of feathers. The pain forgotten, Dean rushed to his little brother. Sam was on the floor, eyes wide and searching for Dean, body going numb.

"D-Dean," He managed to gasp. Dean hushed him and began yelling for Castiel, but the angel was nowhere to be seen. Panicking, Dean quickly removed his coat and flannel shirt, using the shirt to try to staunch the blood gushing out of Sam's chest. "Hold on Sammy. Just hold on" He pleaded. He couldn't lose the only family member he had left.

Sam weakly grabbed Dean's shoulder, his eyes staring into Dean's. He was smiling, why was he smiling? "I'm proud of us." he whispered. Dean's eyes went wide with fear. He couldn't lose Sammy. Anything but Sammy! Sam's eyes closed slowly, his chest no longer moving. His last breath rattled in his lungs, created an ominous sound that echoed.

Dean felt his chest constrict. No. No. No. His eyes began to sting as the pain in his body flared up. He slowly removed the blade from Sam's chest, and he threw it as far as he could. It clattered into an unseen resting place. A blood curling scream tore its way from his throat. He clung to his brother's body and kept screaming until his voice has hoarse. Even then he didn't stop until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

His head whipped around and saw Castiel. The angel had tears running down his face, a sight Dean never thought he would see. "Bring him back!" Dean demanded; his voice cracking. "Dean. I'm sorry. He's gone" was the faint reply.

Dean refused to let Castiel touch Sam. He carried his brother out of the warehouse. "This is what your Messiah did" he spat bitterly at the crowd gathered outside. He continued on to the Impala, laying his brother gently in the backseat. Dean got into the driver's seat and Castiel quietly sat in the passenger side. The drive to the bunker was quiet and tense. Neither man nor angel willing to break the silence.

When they got to the bunker Dean gently laid Sam on his bed and covered him with a thin sheet. Without a word to Castiel, he grabbed a large bottle of whiskey from the kitchen and left. He took a long swig of bitter alcohol and started up the car. He drove with no destination in mind, occasionally downing large mouthfuls of whiskey. It seemed like hours before he stopped at a dead-end. He got out of the car, grabbing his new best friend, and slammed the car door shut. Not even a wince as he hurt his baby.

After the last drops of whiskey were gone, Dean threw the bottle into the shadows surrounding the clearing he found himself in. A loud shatter indicated that the bottle found the Impala. He fell to his knees, and for the first time he let go. Sobs racked his body and his screams pierced the air. For the first time in his life, he let his true emotions show. No hiding from it this time. It seemed like an eternity before the sobs stopped. Tears still ran from his eyes, but he made no sound.

His mind ran a mile a minute. What was he gonna do without Sammy. How could he survive without Sammy? Memories flashed before his eyes. Carrying Sammy out of the burning house. Caring for Sammy while Dad was out on hunts. Always saying hi to him at school. All the hours driving in the Impala. The hundreds of hunts they did together. Why Sammy? Sammy was the one who could be saved, Dean was the damned soul. The loyalty and love he held for his younger brother burned in his soul.

Dean knew that without Sammy, he was nothing. He had no reason to live. He pulled the gun from his waistband. His eyes roamed the gun for a few seconds. He brought it to his chin. He smiled. He would get to be with Sammy again.

Click. Bang. Thump.

Everyone knew that Dead Winchester would die with his gun in his hand.

* * *

There will be at least one more chapter. Please leave a review, helpful criticism is very welcome.


End file.
